Ash Princess (Ash Princess Trilogy #1)(91)
“There were rumors,” Artemisia says after the moment of shocked silence that follows my explanation. “I heard that the mad ones were taken away for testing. There were even whispers about Kalovaxian physicians harvesting magic from their body parts, selling their blood overseas. But I never thought…” She trails off.
My voice breaks despite my best efforts to keep it strong. “Elpis has the poison. She’s giving Cress a powder that will cause her face to redden and swell so that she’ll have to miss the banquet tonight. If she doesn’t attend, the Theyn will have no reason to either, since he detests parties. They’ll dine together, alone, since the Theyn is due to ship out again soon. S?ren is already furious with his father, and tonight I can push him over the edge and get him to confront him publicly. Then I’ll convince him to come for another late-night sail, and when we’re on the boat alone, I’ll kill him with the dagger.” I don’t hesitate or stumble over the words like I might have only a few hours ago. I’m an altogether different person now, and so is he. “Artemisia, is your mother ready for us to leave?”
“She’s been waiting on the order,” she replies. Even with the wall between us, I know she’s smiling. “I’ll go now and make sure everything is ready. Any destination in particular?”
I lick my lips, turning over options. There are precious few of them. “The Anglamar ruins. It’s the perfect place to regroup and strategize before we liberate the mines.”
The answer is met with protests. All three of them speak over one another to tell me the same things: liberating the mines is a bad idea, there are too many guards, it’s impossible. I wait for their protests to die down.
“It’s the only way,” I say. “With our current numbers, we can’t make a real stand. Help from other countries will come with strings, but there are thousands of Astreans in the mines. And knowing what we do now…I can’t let my people—many of them children—stay there a day longer than necessary. It’s the only thing to do. And with the Prinz dead and the court fighting among themselves over what to do about it, they won’t be at their full strength. If there was ever a time to try to take the mines back, it’s now.”
I wait for more protests, but they don’t come.
“My mother will say it’s too risky,” Artemisia says finally. I open my mouth to argue. “But I can convince her.”
I nod, fighting a smile. Having Artemisia on my side is new and welcome. “Heron, go gather evidence to frame the guard. I’ll need it by the time I return from the banquet.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” he says.
* * *
—
The knock at my door takes me by surprise. It’s only midafternoon and the banquet isn’t due to start until dusk, so it can’t be Hoa or an attendant bringing my dress and crown. At first I think it might be S?ren, but it’s a far too conventional entrance for him. Hesitantly I set aside the book of Elcourtian histories—reading is the only way to calm my anxious mind—but before I can get out of bed to answer, the door opens and Cress glides in, pink silk dress flaring behind her. She hasn’t started getting ready for the banquet yet, and her fair skin is still unblemished and smooth.
When she sees me, her steps grow slow and hesitant, her gray eyes finding mine before quickly darting away. Though she must still be giddy from her lunch with S?ren, her expression is somber.
“I…,” she begins, dropping her eyes to the floor. She brings her hands together in front of her, wringing them. “I heard about what happened. The…” She can’t say the words, but I know she means my punishment, which is surprising on its own. In ten years, she’s never brought up my beatings. She pretends they don’t happen at all.
But after our last conversation, she must feel guilty. It shouldn’t soften me; it shouldn’t make my heart clench in my chest. But it does. I try to think of the things she said to me yesterday, the coldness in her voice, the unveiled threat she poses even now. The girl who put her ambitions over my life. That is not a friend, I tell myself, but the way she’s looking at me now, shamefaced and concerned—I could almost forget what I now know to be true.
I should tell her to go, I should give some excuse or other—I’m not feeling well, I want to sleep, I’m in too much pain. I could tell her I will see her at the banquet tonight, make some plan that will never come to fruition. Because having her here, I know I will waver again and I can’t afford to do that.
“Come on,” I say to her instead, scooting over on the bed to make room for her to lie down next to me. My back aches as I move, but I’m only dimly aware of it now.
Cress’s smile is beatific as she does just that, picking up the book of Elcourtian histories.
I’m going to miss her smile. The thought is like the Theyn’s whip, a pain I feel to my bones.
“It’s good,” I tell her, nodding to the book.
“Have you gotten to the Fishmongers’ War?” she asks eagerly, flipping through the pages until she finds the right chapter.
I have, but I let her read it to me anyway, her voice soft and melodious as she discusses the peasant fishmongers who rose up against the Elcourtian royalty almost five hundred years ago. It wasn’t a fight they had any right to win, they were inexperienced and outnumbered, but it wasn’t long before peasants across the country joined their cause, fed up with the current corrupt regime. That, combined with the fishmongers’ better mastery of the surrounding seas, led them to execute the entire royal family and strip the nobility of their titles and wealth, redistributing them among themselves.